Balm on Wounds
by Scythe Rose
Summary: When young Maka Albarn finds out that her weapon partner has a very uncool addiction, she'll do anything to get him to stop. Getting him to stop isn't the only good thing to come out of this. Rated T for smoking


Day 3

The first time Maka had smelled smoke wafting through the crack under her bedroom door, she had shot up like a rocket and scrambled to see what was set on fire. Her loose hair flew wildly with every long stride the young girl took as she dashed into the kitchen. To Maka's surprise though, nothing was on fire, but she still smelled the awful, pungent stench of smoke.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the moon illuminating her shared apartment was the only source of light, and realized that the smoke she smelled wasn't from a fire, but was from a cigarette.

Sitting on the worn out couch in front of the TV was her new roommate, Soul Eater. His white hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, and his scarlet-hued eyes seemed nearly black. There he was, lounging casually as if nothing was wrong, lit cigarette dangling between his peculiar sharp teeth. "Hey Maka," he drawled, "why are you up so late? You have a bad dream and need a strong man to protect you?" he raised a furry eyebrow while taking another drag.

"Wha-no!" Maka spluttered, silently thanking death that it was night. "Why the hell are you smoking Soul?!" she stalked toward her roommate rather menacingly.

"Why not?" he replied nonchalantly. Maka growled in response, eyes watering at the ghostly smoke cloud billowing around her friend.

"Smoking is bad for you, baka!" she scolded. "It causes lung cancer and has bad effects on your health in the long run, don't you know that?" her ashen blonde hair swung wildly as she made frantic hand gestures.

"Chill Maka," he got up and put the cigarette out before walking towards the tiny ball of fury. "I won't smoke in the house anymore, I promise," he looked down at her, eyes boring a hole into the top of her head, which was bowed.

"That's not the point!" her head snapped up to look at him, "Smoking is a terrible habit and you can get addicted! Jeez Soul, when you said you needed a place to stay away from home I didn't know it would include you stinking up the place with cig smoke," she added, batting a hand at the remnants of the cloud of death.

"Maka, I admit that smoking isn't cool," the sentence elicited a gasp from Maka, Soul wanted to be the epitome of _cool_. "But it was a habit that I picked up at home, you know, before Death City," cigarettes and jazz records were like a balm on Soul's wounds, numbing the pain for a few blissful hours.

Maka didn't know what to say, she didn't know anything about his parents, and she knew almost nothing more about the mysterious Soul Eater, if that was even his real name. She just mumbled something about seeing him in the morning and that she better not wake up again smelling smoke.

Day 7

"Maka!" Soul called from the living room.

"What is it?" Maka called from the confines of her room, where she was attempting at finishing a book, despite her pesky partner.

"Where is my leather jacket?" he yelled.

"How should I know? You don't even let me touch it!" Maka rolled her eyes. She heard cursing coming from the living room and decided it was her best interest to finish her damn book because she had been distracted by thoughts of her roommate all morning. At that thought, she turned red and buried her nose in her book, as if to hide her blush from anybody.

Just as the green-eyed girl flipped to the next page, the albino swung open her door, looking ragged and disheveled.

"Soul? Have you ever heard of knocking?!" she yelled, chopping him over the head with her book.

"Jeez woman!" Soul groaned from the floor, holding his skull in his hands.

"What do you want?" she ignored the glare he sent her way.

"I can't find my cigarettes," he sounded defeated.

"How is that my fault?" she didn't give in.

"It's not, but I really need some, I'm getting a headache and I can't sit still. Black Star invited me to play one on one at the courts near school but I can't focus on anything," he ran a hand through his silver hair as he stood up, glancing from Maka to the floor and back to Maka again.

Maka was puzzled, Soul wasn't exhibiting normal "cool" behavior. Her normally stoic partner looked absolutely frazzled, and she could see tiny beads of sweat collecting at his hairline.

"Soul, this is becoming a serious problem and I swear to death Soul if you don't stop this right now I'll-" she paused to come up with something, "I'll take your motorcycle away!" she grinned as his ruby orbs widened. "You have to stop smoking, idiot! It's bad for you and you're already addicted," she glared at his dumbfounded face. "When was the last time you had a cigarette?"

"About two and a half hours ago," he mumbled. It was Maka's turn for her eyes to widen, and boy did they.

"Not even three hours ago?! Soul! This is going to tear you apart from the inside out! You're already addicted and this is bad, Soul, very bad," the pale girl started pacing back and forth across the wood flooring.

"I know Maka, I know," his eyes locked with hers for a moment, "but I really need a cigarette right now!" he sounded desperate. She shot him a look that said _did you not process anything I said?!_

"Soul, I'll cut ya a deal," his head shot up at her tinkling voice and his foot stopped tapping the ground.

"What is it? Anything!" he clasped his hands together in a begging posture.

"I'll buy you a pack of cigarettes right now, but you have to quit smoking," she grinned at his white face.

"What?" he blanched at her.

"You heard me," she shot a look at his t-shirt clad form. "I'll buy you a pack or two of cigarettes, but once those run out, no more," she paused to let it sink in. Technically it was illegal to buy cigarettes, as the Albarn/Eater pair were well under the age of tenty one, but their Shibusen I.D's let them get away with a lot. "And I get to monitor your cig intake so you wane off of them eventually," the cunning meister added thoughtfully.

The boy with the hair colored like cocaine seemed to be pondering this thoughtfully, a hand reached up and stroked his chiseled chin. "Fine," he agreed. He couldn't let smoking ruin his life, he was just fifteen after all. "But I want you to smoke my last cigarette," he flashed his signature shit-eating smirk at the feisty vixen. At his proposition, her jaw dropped to the floor.

"No-Soul!" she was at a loss for words, "I don't want to get addicted!" her hands flailed around in the air to emphasize her point.

Soul strode over to Maka and grabbed her wrists, pulling them back down to her sides. "Look Maka, one cigarette won't kill you, but being a prude will," he grinned at her huff, blood red eyes staring into forest green, "I promise you won't be addicted after just one," he coaxed her out of her enraged state.

"Fine," she mumbled. She was Maka bloody Albarn, no way in hell was she going to back down from a challenge. "Let's go to the store,"

Soon the duo was on their way to the closest liquor store, Soul insisting on taking his orange and black motorcycle because he simply couldn't wait longer than he had to. Soul nearly sprinted into the small store, literally itching with the need for a cigarette. Maka just rolled her eyes but followed him inside.

"Hey Soul, you're back soon!" the older man at the cash counter yelled. "Who's this?" he caught sight of Maka who was wearing a pair of black denim shorts and one of Soul's white t-shirts.

"This is Maka," Soul gestured to the girl before glancing over the cashier's shoulder at the many cigarette packs against the back wall. "She's my roommate," he added.

"Ah, so this is Maka!" the man observed. "Your friend Soul here has told me a lot about you!" he started to chuckle.

"Psh, did not old man," Soul blew him off, but the blush on his face contradicted his words. Maka glanced at Soul, who was staring right back at her, causing the two students to turn red, again.

"James, I need two packs of the usual," Soul averted his eyes from his adorable roommate and held up two fingers. James the cashier man turned around and plucked two small cardboard boxes of Clove cigarettes, sliding them across the counter.

"That'll be $9.50," James replied.

Soul slapped a ten on the counter and said, "Thanks James, see ya soon," before grabbing Maka's hand and dragging her out the door.

As they were walking the short distance to Soul's bike, a car passed by with some guy hanging out the back window. Upon seeing Maka there, the testosterone-filled junkie yelled "TAKE IT OFF BABY!" and cackled like a madman.

"That little bitch!" Maka cried, crossing her arms over her chest and muttering to herself. Soul swore he saw her wheat-blonde pigtails stick straight up. He didn't comment on her comment, but fumed silently next to her.

"That asshole thinks he can just say that to you?! He doesn't even know you! I swear guys don't know how to treat girls properly," Soul snarled, much to Maka's amusement. She hadn't seen Soul jealous in the small time she had known him, but it was cute.

"Soul, I think you've forgotten why we came here," she pointed a dainty finger at the cardboard cigarette package.

Snapping out of his rage, he quickly fumbled for a lighter and jammed the filter in between his lips, deftly lighting the butt. He took a long drag and exhaled, phantom smoke swimming around his head.

"You can have another one in four hours, no sooner!" Maka told him pointedly, confiscating the clove cigarettes.

"Fine, just remember your end of the deal," he blew more smoke.

"Yeah yeah," she waved a hand dismissively. "Wanna tell me why you started smoking in the first place?" she asked curiously.

"Nah, that story's for another day," he replied airily, flicking the end of the cigarette, ash falling to the concrete beneath.

"But you promise you'll tell me?" Maka's jade eyes were wide and innocent, despite her father's idiocy. For some unknown reason, she trusted the enigmatic teen.

"Yeah, if you tell me where you came from," Soul was never one to speak about his past without someone returning the favor. "Where are your parents?" he asked with bored interest, if that made sense.

Maka flinched at the question, "Mama's traveling the world, and Papa's probably at some strip club," Maka muttered in disdain. Soul was waiting for her to elaborate like she always did about nearly _everything _else he asked her about, but it never came, and he wasn't feeling snarky enough to press her on the matter, for once.

They leaned against the brick wall outside the liquor store in somewhat comfortable silence until Soul's cigarette had reached its end. They silently hopped on the motorcycle and rode the small drive back to their shared apartment.

_I hope I can do this_, Soul thought. _This is all Mom and Dad's fault, they didn't even notice what effect they had on me,_ he thought bitterly.

_I don't want to smoke a cigarette,_ Maka thought nervously. _I know it's a long ways away until he's finished the two packs but cigarettes have bad long-term effects!_ Her brain was on overdrive as they walked up the stairs to their home.

Three Hours Later:

Soul couldn't stand it, he _needed_ another cigarette. His life depended on it, he thought it was rather ironic how the thing that will slowly kill him is what he insists he needs to stay alive. Soul was currently in the small kitchen of his and Maka's apartment, opening and closing the refrigerator door, not so much searching for something to eat but rather trying to distract himself from the nagging in his brain for another cig.

If anyone else was observing Soul, he would've looked like quite the mental patient. His fists were clenching and unclenching, he was muttering incoherently under his breath while sweating profusely.

Day 15

Soul had been making good progress, he was now able to go without smoking for eight hours, thanks to Maka. The snowy-haired man also managed to pass all of his classes at the DWMA, the school that him and his friends all attended, again, thanks to Maka.

He was down to his last pack of cigarettes, and he knew he had it in him to stop. He had taken a liking to Maka and all her anger, despite how uncool that was, hung up on a flat-chested bookworm like herself. But he was, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Maka, despite her long streak of hating all of the male gender, a trait given to her by her cursed Papa, had fallen for Soul rather quickly, despite her efforts to not get close to the cool-obsessed man. He was the guy your parents warn you about, complete with bad attitude and proving his masculinity wherever he went.

Day 30

Soul tapped the corner of the cardboard box to grab another cigarette when he realized there was one left. That was when he noticed he didn't really feel the urge to smoke a cigarette, it had been a day since he had last put the death stick between his shark teeth.

Soul strode back inside the apartment, startling Maka who was cleaning the coffee table, dancing as she did so.

"Soul!" Maka stopped what she was doing and straightened her hair, "Why are you back so early?" she raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Well Ma-ka," he enunciated each syllable, "it seems that I've run out of cigarettes," he smirked lopsidedly at her."And guess who's gonna smoke the last one?" he leaned into her, causing her to blush madly.

"M-me," she stared at the floor.

"Chin up Maka," his warm hand grabbed her chin and angled it up at him, their faces inches apart. "Let's go outside, shall we?" he grabbed her hand and dragged her outside before she could protest and make an excuse.

He took the cardboard pack and took out the last cigarette, handing it over to Maka.

"Maka, the filter goes in your mouth," he bit his lip to keep from chuckling, "Now you got it," he nodded.

"I can't believe I agreed to this!" Maka was on the verge of hysterics, her Mama would be so disappointed.

"It's okay Maka, calm down," Soul comforted her. Over the short period they had lived together, they were now deft at reading each other like books. Soul pulled out a red plastic lighter, the color adjacent to his eyes, and lit the butt of the cigarette, which was now dangling from Maka's pink dainty lips.

"What do I do?" Maka asked, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and studying it with a critical eye.

"Put the brownish orange end in your mouth and inhale slowly, then exhale, it's pretty easy once you get the hang of it," Soul drawled and rolled his eyes. Maka had seen him smoke numerous times over the past month, and the girl was too perceptive for her own good, she should have picked it up by now.

Maka did as she was told. She inhaled much too sharply and coughs wracked her tiny frame. Soul slung an arm around her shoulder and patted her back, waiting for the hacking to end.

"That," she wheezed, "was not fun," she glared at him through watery eyes.

"Maka, you gotta take it slowly, ease it into your lungs," he started laughing at her apprehensive face.

"Fine," she growled, "but you have to tell me why you started smoking in the first place, I think it's about time," she told him before attempting to inhale the death stick another time.

It went more smoothly than her first intake, the hacking was reduced to only minimal coughing, and her eyes weren't watery anymore.

"Well, I come from a family of musicians," Soul managed. "and I play the piano, as you know," the two recalled the memory of how the duo met, Maka walking into the music room at the DWMA by mistake, eavesdropping on Soul's hauntingly beautiful piano piece. "I don't play much anymore, but my parents always wanted me to follow in the footsteps of the Evans family. My older brother, Wes, plays the violin. My dad plays the cello, and my mom plays the harp like no other, but classical music isn't the thing for me. Jazz has no structure to it, no boundaries, but my music was frowned upon in the music world," he glanced at Maka, who was staring at him and taking another drag.

"That's why you moved away from home?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "there was so much pressure put on me, being the youngest Evans. Sure, I was good at the piano, but not up to the Evans standards. That's when I got my first fake I.D. and took to smoking. Smoking and jazz took the edge off things, and old habits die hard I guess," he shrugged his broad shoulders.

Maka nodded thoughtfully, not knowing what to say.

"I gotta admit Maka, you make smoking look pretty adorable," he poked fun at her for the umpteenth time that day.

"Shut up Soul, smoking sucks," she growled as she exhaled again.

Maka took the last drag, letting the ashes flutter in the wind before moving out of sight. "That was terrible," she stuck out her tongue. "But I do feel more relaxed," she admitted shyly.

"Don't get hooked on em," Soul wiggled his eyebrows and shook his pointer in her face.

"Tch," she pushed his hand away, "I won't,"

When Soul didn't reply with a snarky comment or more relentless teasing, Maka turned her head to the right to look at him, only to be met with his face right next to hers.

"S-Soul?" she squeaked.

"Maka," his breath tickled her nose.

"Uh, yeah?" she blushed.

"I think I might love you," he didn't give her a chance to reply before he smashed his lips to hers. She tasted like cinnamon and strawberries, he like cigarettes and oranges, his favorite fruit.

Her hands wove into his hair, and his grasped her waist as if his life depended on it. Soul grinned into the kiss, and they pulled away for air.

"I think I might love you too, cigarette smell and all," it was her turn to tease him.

Maybe cigarettes weren't so bad, as long as you found a new remedy for your own inner turmoil. It sounds bad, but cigarettes are what brought the pair together, turning me into we. She was now the new balm for his wounds, cigarettes no longer doing him justice.


End file.
